


The Beauty of Us

by clarissa_writes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Cheating, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Jealous Natasha Romanov, Moving On, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Substitution, get ready for some pain cause theres a shit ton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarissa_writes/pseuds/clarissa_writes
Summary: He assured you his past with Natasha was just that: The past.So why is it that when you came home from a mission earlier than expected you caught him in bed with her, his hands brushing her hair back like he would do with yours as he softly utters her name so fondly it felt like a knife was twisting your gut.But that's not the worst of it.He goes on to tell her he loves her. He tells her he loves her so easily when he always struggled to say the same to you.You should've known better.You should've seen it coming.You should've realized what those sympathetic looks you were getting from both Steve and Clint were.Betrayal isn't enough to express what you feel.And there was no way you could ever forgive that.





	1. o n e

He assured you his past with Natasha was just that:

The past.

  
So why is it that when you came home from a mission earlier than expected you caught him in bed with her, his hands brushing her hair back like he would do with yours as he softly utters her name so fondly it felt like a knife was twisting your gut. But that's not the worst of it.He goes on to tell her he loves her. He tells her he loves her so easily when he always struggled to say the same to you.

  
You should've known better.

  
You should've seen it coming.

  
You should've realized what those sympathetic looks you were getting from both Steve and Clint were.

Betrayal isn't enough to express what you feel.

And there was no way you could ever forgive that.

You snapped out of your daze, looking at Bruce hunched over a few of his blueprints scattered across the metal table. It's been over a year since you packed your shit up and left the tower, leaving nothing more than your Transfer letter at S.H.I.E.L.D HQ and an empty room on the top floor where all the Avengers resided. You wanted an out, unable to look at your ex-lover and ex-friend in the eye, much less, trust them with your life. Any ounce of trust you had in them flew out the window the minute you found out about their affair. 

You just didn't think Bruce Banner would go with you.

"You should get some rest."

Bruce's soft voice makes you blink out of your stupor. He must've sensed that you were staring at him, his body language suggesting he himself was exhausted but he knew you were far more worn out. A back to back mission takes its toll on you. You hadn't had a decent sleep in over two weeks and you were simply dying to have a good night's rest. Bruce finally looks up at you, a small, warm smile gracing his face. The smile that always assured you things will be fine and you would move passed this. If someone told you a year ago that Bruce would become someone so important to you, you would've laughed and played it out as a joke. Back then when he was Natasha's lover, you hardly ever said a word to one another. He was awkward and socially constipated, and you came off as cold, not to mention wary of the _other guy_ that lived in Banner's body. Sure, you two were teammates. But that was all it was and at the time, that was more than enough. 

The moment you found out about their infidelity, Bruce did too.

And it was chaotic.

It resulted in hulk out, the other avengers desperately trying to contain him as he charged at Bucky, and a naked, sheet-clutching Natasha looked on desperately, trying to soothe the green guy with her voice.

Obviously, that didn't work.

If anything, it made it worse. 

Long story short Tony had to get all his armor out there including the Hulk Buster to finally hold him down along with the others. That was the last time you saw the Hulk. It was also the last time you or Banner saw your _teammates_.  

Your jaw clenched at the word. _Teammates_. The people who you put your trust in, blind faith. The people who knew about the affair but didn't say a word. Tony and Thor were the only ones who didn't know, so you couldn't have resented them. But Steve and Clint? They knew, and they kept it to themselves. And for that, you could never look at them the same way without feeling the sharp pain of betrayal. The all too consuming rage and disgust.

"You should listen to your own advice, Bruce."

You walked over to him, gently pressing a hand to his shoulder and feeling how tense he was. He was nervous, clearly hiding something from you and you had to find out what. Living together -platonically- had been a huge therapy session. You both lived at the SHIELD building in California, having your own designated rooms, but more often than not, you two would have sleepovers. Bruce had become your best friend, if not brother, and you were just as important to him. It got to the point where he replaced Nat's name with yours under the emergency contact and you replaced Bucky's with his.

He was your support, your friend, and the only person who really knew what you felt.

He was the only one who understood the pain and heartbreak and agony you went through. The only one who can say he knows what you're dealing with.

"What's wrong?"

You ask, frowning when his eyes drop to the floor and he nervously pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The tip of his tongue runs across his bottom lip. A habit he had when he was feeling antsy and a little concerned.

"We need to go back."

It's those five words that made your blood go cold. He didn't need to specify what he meant. You knew damn well what he meant. But you didn't understand why he would say such a thing when he knew just as well as you did, that you both didn't have anything there. Here, you had a life. There, you had the remains of broken trust, love and friendship. Why on Earth would you ever go back?

"Bruce-"

"Tony isn't well."

That stumps you for a moment. You stare at him, his gaze unyielding as you search those eyes. Trying to depict anything of what he was saying before he gives you the final blow.

"What are you talking about."

  
Bruce sighs, taking his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes. Seconds go by, nothing but complete silence spread between you two in the lab when finally, Bruce begins to speak.

"Tony... the kid- Peter, he got caught up in some trouble. Found a hydra base and went in by himself. There were explosives around the building. He got rid of em before rushing in."

Bruce swallows, running his tongue across his bottom lip,

"He forgot one. There were kids in there. Test subjects Hydra was keeping and he got them out but there was one more room and Tony- he, he had to stay behind and make sure the kids got out and the building just..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. And the silence spreads out again.

"Is he alive?"

"Comatose. Pepper and Rhodey are holding on but..."

  
He shakes his head and the wave of sadness that fills you up is enough to solidify your decision. It wasn't about Steve, Sam, Clint, Nat or even Bucky. This was about your friends and you'd be damned if you let something like cowardice get in the way of supporting the people you care for. You can't be so selfish, so bitter that you can't be there for the ones who hadn't betrayed you. The people who cared. So you look at Bruce and nod, taking his hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze as you tell him,

"I'll get the jet ready."

* * *

 

Bucky pounds his fists into the bag, beads of sweat rolling down his temples as he takes in a shuddering breath. He can feel his blood pumping, his adrenaline rushing through his body but he pulls away to grab the bottle of water he left at the bench. He finishes the whole thing in one sitting, not bothering to look behind him when he senses someone walking in.

"Thought you had a date with Carter."

Bucky smiles, a little strained when he feels the soreness of his muscles shoot up. Steve walks up to him, unable to return the smile and drops his gaze to the floor. Bucky instantly knew something was wrong. All prior traces of teasing wiped from his face when he takes in the grim expression on his best friend's face.

"Steve what's-"  


"Tony got in an accident. He's in a coma."

Out of anything Steve could have said, that was certainly not what he expected. He doesn't know how to respond. It feels surreal. Sure, he and Stark have a hard time getting along, especially since after-

No.

Bucky grinds his teeth, forcing his thoughts to stray away from you. He tries not to remember you. Not to say your name. Not to see those pretty eyes in his sleep, or hear your voice or see that smile. It's slowly killing him every time he fails to forget. It kills him knowing exactly what it was he lost. What it was he pushed away. Even after a year, it still hurts just as much as it did before.

"A meeting's been called in. Fury wants all of us to be there."

Steve lifts his eyes to meet Bucky's gaze,

"They called her too."

And it's those four words that drench over him like a bucket of ice water. His eyes widen, lips part in a soundless reply as Steve's words sink in. He can't figure out what exactly it is he's feeling because there was too much all at the same time. He feels shock, happiness, excitement, sadness- guilt. Fucking hell, does he feel guilt. It's been over a year since he's last seen you. Since he's last seen your face, but it's been even longer since he last held you. Bucky's fists clench at his sides.

His throat has gone dry and he tried to muster up his composure but Steve can see through it. Even when Bucky clears his throat and wipes his face of any emotion and goes: "Is she coming?", Steve can see the underlying nervousness inside him. He can see how vulnerable he really was with this revelation.   


"I'm not sure. She hasn't gone back to us."

  
He tells him honestly and he pretends not to see the disappointment on Bucky's face,

"But knowing (Y/N)... she and Tony were really close. They still keep in contact so the chances that she'll be here is more than likely."

Bucky didn't like that. He wished she was coming. He wanted to see her face. To see how she's been over these several months. To see if she changed her hair color, her style, if she laughs the same, smiled the same. If she was still his (Y/N). If she was happier... without him.

He doesn't even want to consider the possibility of her having someone else. He doesn't want to think about the chance that you have another in your life. That you have someone there sleeping in _his_ side of the bed. Or well, what used to be his side of the bed. Bucky doesn't want to think about it. Doesn't want to entertain the possibility that someone out there has your heart in his hands. That someone out there is holding you tight at night, kissing those luscious lips of yours, telling you how beautiful you are or how much he loves you only to hear you say it back.

Like he used to with you.

He doesn't want to know if someone has essentially filled in the space he left behind.

The spot in your heart he used to own.

It makes his chest tighten. Unbidden pain pulsing from his heart. 

Steve's phone suddenly goes off. The annoying beeping is what snaps Bucky out of his trance. It's almost pathetic how much he mulls over this when the reason he was in this situation was his stupid decisions in the first place. He was the jackass, the cheater, the unfaithful and yet he acts as if he's the one who hurt the most. He feels the hate for himself bubble up in his chest. Bucky watches Steve's face go through two stages when he answers the phone. One; confusion. The other, shock.

When Steve finally gets off the phone and looks Bucky right in the eyes, he knows. He knows what the phone call is about. His heart pounds hard against his chest as he waits for the words to spill from Steve's lips. The silence is infuriatingly thick. Seconds feel like hours as he waits for Steve's confirmation, but what he has to say leaves Bucky ominous about what's to come.

And what's worse?

Jealousy. 

He feels unadulterated jealousy. 

"She's here. She's here, but she's not alone. She's with Banner."


	2. t w o

You say nothing as the jet softly touches ground.

Whether it be from the tightly coiled nerves of returning or the tension regarding Tony’s wellbeing, or hell, both, neither you nor Bruce said anything else during the trip. It was silent. The faint humming of the jet the only thing breaking the solace. The damned solace you ached to have but will have to give up in a matter of minutes.

Small talk didn’t seem like much of an option. Not with the bomb that had dropped on you and the sudden change of course to New York. What could you have said? What else was there left to say? Anything that should’ve been talked about or acknowledged was left behind a year ago. Where it should stay. Buried and forgotten. There was no need to dig it up again when you know Bruce still felt the sting almost as much as you did. That sharp edged pain reminding you of the betrayal, the utter trust you'd placed in the wrong people only to get stabbed in the back. What was the point of bringing it up again? To tell lies like "it'll be fine", when really, neither of you know if that's true. If anything, it's _not_ fine. Nothing about this situation was fine. You were many things but you weren't naive.

You weren't naive enough to hang onto a fragment of false hope and actually encourage others to blindly believe it too.

You weren't foolish enough to put your trust in good faith. You've done it once and where has that gotten you?

You were many things in this world but you weren't a liar.

You couldn’t tell him everything would get better; you didn’t know if that was true. Just like he couldn’t lie to you and say “we won’t have to stay for long”. Because you simply didn't know. You knew he wanted to comfort you. To reassure you in some way as you did him, but what could he have done? What could you have done? This scenario was as fucked up as it could get. 

So you did the only thing you could do. You found that your hand was linked with his throughout the whole hour. And if he was tired or annoyed with it, he didn’t show it. 

Not when he gripped your hand a little tighter when the Tower came to view. 

A gentle graze of his thumb across your knuckles was as much “acknowledgement” as you could get. The most comfort you could offer one another. And for now, that was enough. It had to be.

"Are you okay?"

You asked him, glancing at the scientist with the corner of your eye. Bruce's lips twitched into a small, wry smile. He wasn't sure how to respond to that question. He'd had people ask him the very same thing countless times and he had never found it difficult to respond with a quick, dismissing, "Fine", but with you, he couldn't do that. He couldn't lie to you. You both had enough liars in your life to last a life time. He stared at you for few seconds before turning his attention back to the tower. It looked as if he was stuck in a memory. Nostalgia glazed over his dark eyes. There wasn't a need to ask because it was obvious what he was thinking about. Or rather, _who_.

Bruce swallows down the lump in his throat and forced himself to stand up straighter, a charming smile a little too ragged and a little too forced on his face as he tugged on your hand.

"No,"  
 

He'd admitted.

"but we will be."

You didn't comment on how he said "we". 

With a short breath, you pulled away to activate the latch and the door opened with a hiss. You couldn't help but think this was a terrible idea. That this was too sudden, too rash, too _emotional_.

it was too impulsive of you.

What if you had another Hulk out? What if Pepper or Rhodes or hell, even Happy was mad at you? Would they even want to see you? What if you saw-

Your jaw ticked as you dropped down to the gravel. Bruce was right behind you when you felt him stiffen. 

You weren’t alone.

Still, you mustered up all your courage and held your head high. It was too late to regret this anyway. If you weren't strong enough to face your pain, you'd be strong enough to help Bruce face his. Besides, it wasn't about you. It wasn't about Bruce. It was about the man who'd been a friend, a father figure, a comrade that you were here. You shouldn't forget that.The pair of you walked off to the pad, noting two distinct figures at the other side. Pepper and Rhodes. Bruce licked his lips. His eyes darting from them to you, a creeping hint of worry in those precious browns. Even when he was very nearly shaking from his own nerves, he still put your well being first.

Your heart swelled as you smiled at him,

"I'll be fine."

It wasn't a lie this time. It was a promise.

* * *

 Bucky stares at the door the whole time.

He doesn't want to miss it when you first come in. He wants to see you as soon as he can even if its just by a few seconds earlier.

_You don't deserve even that._

The nagging voice in the back of his head mocks him.

He knows he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to see you again, be in the same place or even breathe the same air. But this wasn't about him. A wave of unjust sadness hits him when he reminds himself this. That you weren't here for him, no, you were here for Tony. The person who hadn't betrayed you. The person who hadn't hurt you even a fraction of how he did.

The same person who'd punched him right after finding out what had conspired between him and Natalia.

_"You bastard! You never deserved her. She was always far too good for you."_

Oh how true those words were.

His heart stung.

He knew you were too good. Too good for someone like him. Hell, probably too good for anyone if he were being honest. But having heard it said out in the open, it hurt to accept. Bucky clenches his jaw, ducking his head down to avoid making a face. He didn't want everyone throwing him any more concerned glances like they've already done today. Steve, who stood beside him, shoots a look to Sam. The men knew this was cowardly. Knew this was fucked up, pathetic and that you'd be livid seeing how they were preparing to crowd around you like a flock, but they also knew if they didn't do this, they wouldn't see you. If they didn't stay here in the common room waiting for you to show up, they wouldn't catch a glimpse of you or the scientist. They knew better than to think you'd go out of your way to see them.

Why would you?

Why would you want to see the people who knew about the betrayal? The people who said nothing and kept to themselves? Smile at your face like nothing was wrong? Like they didn't know where and what Bucky was doing in the days you were out in a mission. Or whose bed he'd be in when you were gone. Why would you want to see the people you've considered friends- _family_  - who were also the same people who'd stabbed you in the back?

Steve swallowed down a breath, eyes stuck to his shoes. He knew he had no right to feel guilt- he didn't have any right to _miss you_ , but God he did. Not a word in over a year. Nothing on how you were or what you were doing or where you are. Not even when he asked Fury where you were.

" _That's classified, Captain_."

Yeah.

Classified.

Apparently the fact you were with Bruce Banner was also classified until now. 

"You sure this is a good idea?"

Steve looks up to Clint. The archer was leaning against the wall, thick arms crossing his chest.

  
"She won't appreciate us crowding around her like this."

His eyes quickly darted to the red head cleaning her knives. Natasha was sitting on the couch across from Barnes, her eyes dropped to the weapons in hand and hasn't moved an inch since they all crowded here. He wasn't even sure if Steve told her about it or if she just knew you and Bruce would be back. She probably had her own ways of finding out she kept in the dark. There was a million things that can go wrong with this plan. A million things the others didn't seem to consider. They'd hurt her enough, hurt him enough, they didn't deserve to be ambushed like this. Clint already felt his conscience drowning in guilt since the confrontation, he didn't need to add onto the weight even more. One thing he regretted more than anything was keeping silent. 

His loyalty to Nat had cost him two comrades, two friends, two family members.

"I'm sure the good Doctor wouldn't appreciate it either."

If you'd blinked, you'd miss it. You'd miss the way Natasha froze just a little mid-swipe of her blade but continued on as if the comment didn't matter to her. As if it didn't strike her deep in her stone cold heart she tried to keep guarded. But everyone knew otherwise. None just vocalized it. 

They knew better.

"You know if we didn't come here we won't see them. Maybe not at all if they decided to crash somewhere else."

This time Sam spoke. Another person who had  a hand in keeping the dirty little secret. He rolled his lip in-between his teeth and looked around the room. The atmosphere was thick with tension, so much guilt and uncertainty that he very nearly bolted down the hall just to stand there and take a breath. Fucking hell. Sam never wanted to be away on a solo mission more than he did today. This was chaos waiting to happen.

"Right. Not sure if they really want to see us, though."

Steve looked at Clint with a frown but found himself unable to respond. He knew he was right. Hell, everyone knew that.

"Look, we-"

"Not much has changed here, you can stay in your own rooms.  It's been the exact same since you left. We didn't move a thing."

Bucky's head snaps up at the sound of Pepper's voice. Everyone stills, even Natasha when they heard the all too familiar sound of your voice,

"Pep, it's fine. We don't have to stay here. Bruce and I can find a hotel-"

"No way. You're staying here and that's final."

 His breath got caught in his throat.

He found himself feeling as though the ground beneath him had disappeared and tons of weights simultaneously pressed into his chest. He couldn't blink in fear that if he did, he'd find that you were just a fragment of his imagination. His mind playing tricks on him yet again. He couldn't risk it. Even if he didn't deserve it, he would desperately cling onto his delusions as it was the only thing that let him see you. He would pathetically indulge in his mental instability if it meant hearing your voice.

Only, it weren't delusions.

It was reality.

And now, when his eyes met yours, he wasn't so sure which one he would've preferred. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w h o o p s


	3. t h r e e

* * *

Ever since she was little, Natalia knew she wasn’t allowed to have anything.

The Red Room forbade it.

Her training required her to be as self-equipped as possible.

Her upbringing taught her to be wary of others.

But she did have one thing.

One thing that slipped under her superiors noses.

She had the soldier.

The Asset.

 _Yasha_.

In her tiny, cruel, boxed world, she had _him_.

He wasn’t kind, the bruises on her pale skin from sparring would confirm that. He wasn’t spending time with her out of his free will, he was there to train her like she was there to be trained. He hardly spoke to her, but when he did it, what he said wasnt spoken with such disgust like how the guards sounded when they call her a _Whore_ , whatever that meant.  No, he wasn't a saint. But he wasn't like _them_ either. And in her limited world, that made him better. Infinitely better. That made him _hers_. So it was enough. Back then, it was more than enough.

Little Natalia had nothing in the world.

And yet she had him. 

Then as days became weeks and weeks became months and months became years, she had things. 

She had her own space.

She had a job.

She had purpose.

She had things to her name.

She had friends.

She had family.

She had free will.

And she had _him_.

He was kind, he was warm, at times awkward to a fault and incredibly bad with women.

But he was different.

She had the scientist who turned big and green and angry but would calm with just the sound of her voice.

She had Bruce Banner.

He was hers.

And he was more than enough.

More than she deserved.

But then _he_ came back.

And so did the memories.

Memories of bitter nights sleeping on the cold floor with sore muscles and an aching body. Memories of a time where she had nothing to her name, let alone _a real name_.

Her name.

Something she could associate herself with. A name that wasn't forced upon her. A name she could be proud of. With those memories came the pain. The reminder of what she was and who she was supposed to be. The looming feeling that haunts after her even when she killed each one of her captors.

A feeling that never goes away.

And he obviously felt the same even when he himself had found someone he held dear.

He who also had nothing but her in those days, even when he would forget time after time. 

The one who she thought she’d never see again.

The one she unconsciously depended on.

It wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to withdraw into herself again and become the person Hydra groomed her to be. To be cruel. To be a traitor. To be so cold hearted to betray her closest friend.

But then they accidentally touched hands.

Had more than a few lingering gazes.

They hugged.

And they shared a kiss.

And another.

And another.

And the cycle began again.

And now, what was once _truly_ hers, is gone and she's left alone once again.

Only this time, the fault lied within her. 

* * *

“(Y/n)?”

Your gaze cut around the room. They were all here looking at you, drilling into you like they were waiting for you to snap any second. Rogers, Wilson, Barton, Romanoff and Bu- Barnes.

Like a damned animal in a cage, they stared at you.

Of fucking course.

Of fucking course they would be here. 

Barton was the one who spoke. The one who said your name so softly when it felt like acid to your ears. It burned you. To hear someone you once trusted to even say your name felt repulsive. To hear the damned voice that had went mute when you needed him to speak up the most. And with him was the others who looked just as frazzled. 

You wanted nothing more than to show them how much it hurt. How much it pained you to know and see and _realize_ just how long they've been playing you. You wanted to scream, to hurt, to do anything that would give them even just a taste of the sorrow you've been through.

But your lips don't move.

You don't blink.

You don't give into the urge of ripping into them.

You refused to acknowledge them.

Refused to even look a second longer.

You felt anger stir in your heart, anguish pulling at your chest and you were so close into letting a bitter remark slip through your lips but then you felt it. A warm, comforting hand slipped around your waist and pulled you back from the mist of rage bubbling around you. It wasn't even a possessive touch- not one that would stake claim and warn others off. It was intimate, but not in the way as a lover's would be. You stopped breathing for a moment before slowly blinking away your anger and took in a small breath.

You looked up to see Bruce.

"Let's go visit Tony."

He gives you a small smile,

"We can settle in later."

You feel the reassuring squeeze at your hip and you're suddenly brought back to your senses. It's not worth it. They're not worth it.

You return his smile, no matter how much smaller it is and nod. There's a silent word of thanks that translate in the way you two look at each other. He knows how close you were to snapping. He knew you needed a rescue just as he did when you brought him along with you.

With one last sweeping glance around the room, you and Bruce head toward the medical wing.

Bruce never took his hand off your waist.

You didn't notice.

But they did.

* * *

 

Bucky felt his hands curl into tight fists.  

 He watched you as you and Bruce left, his gaze never straying away from the hand the scientist rested at your hip. The hand that was leading you away. The hand Bucky ached to tear away from you. He was sure he was burning a hole into Banner's skin from how heated his stare was. He knew he was being unreasonable but he couldn't help it.

The bitterness on his tongue and the wrenching of his heart made his mind run wild.

What the hell was _that_? 

Banner, who was never one for physical contact in fear of triggering the Hulk, had reached out and _touched_ you. He _held_ you. Had absolutely no hesitation in steering you away from your teammates- from _him_. As if he had done this many times before. The mere intimacy between you two was so blatantly obvious that he didn't need confirmation to know you two were close. 

The weights on his heart pulled on him.

What the hell did that mean?

What the hell did your closeness to Banner mean?

You couldn't possibly be together, could you?

You, who kept a tight leash on who could enter your heart had let him in? Even when you were together you hardly ever had contact to Banner. So what happened? What changed? Was that year you left the year you allowed yourself to get close to him? On what account? Why?

Was this some ploy to get under his skin- a brutal slap to the face as a reminder that you could easily find another regardless of who it was even if it was Natalia's ex? That you didn't care? That you could just as easily take what was once Natalia's ? Was this revenge? Retribution? Because if so, it worked. Message received. Its deep under his skin. So deep it damn well _burned_ at his core. He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Not only his, but the red headed assassin's as well.

It was only now.

It was only now that the ex Russian assassin slipped. The surprise on her face was palpable. The widening of her eyes, the slight part of her lips, the soft gasp you'd have to struggle to hear if it wasn't for Bucky's enhanced hearing. 

One of utter hurt.

"...So that went well."

Sam's soft voice sounded booming in the pin-drop silence of the room. He flinched, silently cussing under his breath when everyone else startles with him.

Clint, ever so blunt, sighs,

"Well-deserved."

"Can't disagree with that."

Sam mutters, dragging his hand down his face as he turns to the blonde. He didn't know what else to say. None of them could say they didn't expect this. Steve said nothing, only kept his eyes on Bucky. He knew his best friend wouldn't have missed that little interaction between the scientist and his girl. Well, ex-girl. 

He was sure Bucky had wild thoughts running through his mind right now.

Thoughts that would inevitably drag him into the darker corners of his mind.

 "(Y/N) and Bruce will be staying with us."

Everyone turned to look at Pepper. She looks stern, eyes hard and lips pressed into a thin, forced smile as she took her time to look at each and every one of them in the room,

"They're staying indefinitely. They could be here for a day"

God, Bucky hoped not. He only just saw you.

"Could be a week or maybe even longer. Point is, they're staying here until further notice. And I need each of you to understand that you aren't going to pull anything like this again while they're here."

Steve steps up, trying to smooth over the obvious irritation in Pepper's tone,

"We didn't mean to-"

"To what, Steve? _Crowd them_? Intentionally wait here knowing they'll also be here? You must know I'm not stupid. You must know _they_ aren't stupid."

She sighs, eyes shutting for a moment and pinches her brows together.

"None of you will do anything like this again, you hear me? If they want to talk to you, they will. Otherwise, you stay away from them. If they don't want to speak to you, look at you or even be in the same room as you, then they won't. You don't argue. You don't try to change their mind. Don't try to force it your way. They deserve that much respect."

  
With one last scan around the room- lingering for a few more seconds on Bucky and Natasha- Pepper turned on her heels and walked the other way, Rhodes close behind her. The latter shaking his head all the way to the exit.

"I told you she wouldn't have liked it."  
 

Clint sighs, running a hand through his hair before making his way to the elevator. Everyone watched after the archer, silent when he looked over his shoulder one more time,

"I'd listen to Pepper if I were you. Not only does the woman scare me but... she's right."

Clint shrugs, pressing the elevator button and steps inside when the doors pull open,

"We reap what we sow. Some more than others."

The jab doesn't go unnoticed but no one has the time to say anything more as the doors shut, effectively ending the conversation to no one's objection. 

Bucky knows he shouldn’t be feeling so betrayed. He had no right to. No means to feel as if you were betraying him.

You weren’t together. You weren’t in a relationship.

You had the ruins of one.

 One that he himself was responsible for destroying yet he sat there, feeling sorry for himself. Feeling as if the rug was pulled under his feet. Feeling as though you were still his.

And he wonders if you felt any remnants of your relationship. Be it the pain or love. God he hoped you still loved him. That somewhere deep inside you still cared. He hoped there was a chance.

”You okay, Buck?”

Bucky doesn’t look at Steve. He doesn’t even try to lie,

”I’m not.”

He doesn’t look when Natasha briskly walks away. He doesn’t care when he hears her footsteps falling into silence.

”I’m not okay.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have confrontations :-)


	4. f o u r - past

You froze, stopping mid-stretch when that voice calling your name cut through your peace. You sucked in a breath, shutting your eyes for a moment and prayed to God for that semblance of patience. You thought of your bed, your safe space, _Bruce_ \- god, anything that would’ve kept you rooted in place. Anything that would’ve helped you tame your anger.

You breathed in, slowly turning to face Natasha.

You thought you did good.

You managed fourteen days without seeing any of them. You avoided the commonplace like a plague, ate out everyday since, went out early in the morning and spent all day either training or reading while Bruce worked in the labs. You actively avoided _them_.

And it worked.

Until now.

“Widow.”

* * *

 

The clipped tone of your voice, ice cold and detached almost makes Natasha wince. The use of her codename is telling. You don’t acknowledge her enough to regard her with her last name. She’s nothing more than an agent who works with you. Not a friend, not even an acquaintance but a mere coworker.

Natasha clenches down on her jaw and gathers all the courage she could weed out from the overwhelming guilt. She knew if she wanted to at least help Bucky get his happy ending, she would have to be the one to take the fall. She would have to be the one who tried to make amends. The one to make the first step.

After all, she was the one who gave in first.

“I’m sorry.”

Natasha shakes her head to herself, eyes darting to the ground like it would offer her some refuge but she forced herself to look into your eyes. She hopes you can see how deathly serious she is. How sorry and sincere and genuine her words are. She wishes she can fully express it but she doesn’t know if you understand.

That slate of indifference on your face is hard to crack.

It doesn’t give anything away.

She steps forward, making a move to get closer to you,

“What happened with Barnes-”

“I don’t care.”

Natasha can’t hold the wince this time, stopping in her step when she sees your glare.

“What you do with Barnes is not my concern. What happened with Barnes is in the past so there’s no need to go digging it back up again.”

Your cold gaze sharpens,

“The past should _always_ stay in the past.”

It’s a subtle blow, but Natasha feels it all the same. She curls her hands into tight fists and she can’t hold her tongue when it slips out,

“And what you’re doing with Bruce? You mean to tell me your getting close to him isn’t some elaborate revenge scheme to get back at me?”

White hot fury had cloaked over her from your jab, but the minute those words slipped, she regretted it. She didn’t want to fight with you. She only wanted to make amends. But the jealousy that curled around her throat when she saw how Bruce had held you by the waist and pulled you close- obviously protecting you from them, _from her,_ had blinded her.

It reminded her of the mistakes she’d made.

The bed she made and was now forced to live with.

“ _How dare you_?”

You walked toward her, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and anger overflowing from your voice. Patience  be damned. You just wanted to go to the gym, to stretch and relax and now you had to deal with this? You had to deal with the backstabbing friend your boyfriend had been secretly sleeping with? And now you were going to be accused of being petty enough to use Bruce to get back at her?

No.

Hell fucking no.

“Bruce is an amazing man. He's kind, caring, loving and _loyal_ to his friends. Something you clearly know nothing about. I would never, in my life, use him like some toy. Discard him whenever I please. I would never betray him. Don’t lump me in with the likes of you, Widow. And don't you fucking dare try to mess with him again, because I promise you-”

You stepped in her space, eyes unwavering as you glared down at her,

“If you hurt him, I’ll make what happened in the Red Room look like child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you.”

You stared at her a beat more before pushing past her and walking to the exit of the gym.

“Are you threatening me?”

You don’t hesitate to admit without looking back,

“I am.”

* * *

 

He often wonders when it all changed.

When it started to go down hill.

When things became so blurred and terrible and confusing and _wrong_.

What started the chain reaction.

The domino effect.

The technical and literal response would’ve been when he gave into temptation and the calling of the past. The obvious answer was when he lost himself to the affair and deluded himself into thinking familiarity meant love. The self-pitying answer was to say he wasn’t in his right mind when his heart had gotten confused and torn apart between past and new love.

But the right answer? The truth of it all? The root of where the true end began?

He was too scared to move forward.

He deserves this, he thinks.

He deserves the pain. The utter heartache and physical, tangible sting of your missing form beside him in bed. He deserves to wake up, turning to what should’ve been your side of the bed  to find that you were gone. To remember that you have been gone for months now. To realize that your scent on his sheets were nothing more than a play of his mind.

Sometimes he thinks he smells that lotion of yours lingering in his sheets even when he knows how impossible that is when he’s switched them five times already.

Sometimes he sees you sitting at your vanity in ~~your shared~~ _his_ room, fixing your hair in that flimsy nightie you loved only to blink and then suddenly you're gone. Abruptly, suddenly, _gone_.

The phantom of you was the only thing he had left.

That and the shambles of your relationship. The last, hurtful words spewed. The fight. The expression on your face when you confronted him. The permanent scars in his heart are the only things he has left.

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes as the warm water spraying from the shower-head rains down his skin. His muscles instantly relax. His breaths even out and he forces himself to count to ten before counting down. His little mannerism help to calm him just as much as a hot shower does.

He’s shameless to admit that the body wash he uses was the same one you gave him. Even if he ends up smelling like roses and vanilla, he can’t help but feel as though it brings him even the tiniest bit closer to you. It’s childish, maybe even obsessive but he desperately needs your presence. Even if it’s a makeshift one. It can never compare to when he really had you, but it had to be enough.

Bucky hopes it washes away the guilt like it did the blood and grime after missions.

But even then, the blood remains on his hands.

“Fuck.”

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks of silence.

Two weeks without catching another glimpse of you.

Bucky shuts the shower off, pulling the towel from the hang and dries himself off. Seeing you had shaken him up. Knowing you were here and he wasn’t allowed to do anything was shaking him up. God, theres a million things he wants to say to you. Thousands of thoughts he wants to convey and infinite apologies he wants to express.

He wants to say he's sorry.

To get on his knees and cling to you for all he was worth.

To explain to you what was running in his head for doing the things he did even when he knows it isn't an excuse. You deserve that clarity. To know that it wasn’t ever you and that it was him.  He hopes you know that. He hopes you never doubted that. He hopes you know you were absolutely perfect in every way and there was nothing you did that could’ve pushed him to doing what he did. He was selfish. His selfishness was what broke you.

His cowardice.

His insecurities.

And maybe that was the problem.

He had been so focused on himself that he never took the second to think about talking to you about it. To include you and share everything he was afraid to say. You would’ve understood, he knows that. He knows you would've held his hand, stare him in the eyes with those clear beautiful eyes rid of any judgement. He knows you would’ve stuck by him no matter what.

He knows you wouldn't have abandoned him.

Friday’s voice suddenly interrupts his thoughts,

“Sargeant Barnes, Captain Rogers has requested everyone to come into the medical wing. Mr. Stark has woken up.”

 


	5. f i v e

“Not sure if that concussion is worse than I thought or if the medicine kicking in is a dose too high, cause I believe I’m seeing the runaway bride and big, bad and green over here. Know what? Give me a minute. It’s probably my eyes.”

He closes his eyes briefly, counting under this breath before opening them again. He blinks, then pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and hums,

“Huh. Yeah no. Still seeing them. Pep?”

Pepper rolls her eyes fondly, smiling at his antics before placing a warm, firm hand at his shoulder. It’s obvious how happy she was at his recovery. It must’ve been good seeing how quickly he is to start joking around again. Then again, this is Tony we’re talking about. He’s hardly the type to let something like being in a coma faze him.

The thin sheet of tears reflecting in Pepper’s eyes hurt.

It was hard seeing her try to put on a bold front when inside she was struggling to keep herself strong. Possibly losing Tony had taken its toll on her. On everyone, really. But more so on her, on top of running a company.

Pepper’s grin widens when Tony reflexively covers her hand with his own. Their fingers lace together and for a split second, you felt the ache of longing bloom in your chest. You felt that loneliness you tried to keep buried creep up before you stomped it down just as quick.

Now was not the time to get sentimental. Now was not the time to feel sorry for yourself.

“You’re not hallucinating, Tony. They’re really here.”

Pepper said. And though Tony makes an effort to look surprised, failing with the twitch of his lips to smile, he makes an expression that wasn’t all too shocked at the fact.

“Huh. Guess all it took was almost dying to get you two back.”

The blunt statement of it manages to make both of you laugh.

Bruce smiles softly at that, taking your hand in his and giving you a reassuring squeeze. He knew how stressed you were with how this confrontation would go down. He’d seen you suffer through panic attacks, nearly crying your eyes out and hyperventilating with anxiety. You feared Tony wouldn’t want to see you. You feared none of them would. 

Each and every time you’d doubt yourself, Bruce was there. He’d console you the best he could as he wrapped his arms around you and try to help you breathe. He’d tell you to _calm down, sweetheart, you’re overthinking this_. 

Sometimes it worked.

Other times, it didn’t.

“It’s good to see you, Tony. We were worried.”

You mumbled, hoping he’d catch the genuity in your tone. Tony hums again, sounding distracted as his eyes dropped to the way your hand intertwined with Bruce’s. Well that was _interesting_. Sure, he was joking about the whole concussion thing but now? With the whole hand holding? He wasn’t so sure.

“Right. Well see, I understand that. Flattered, really. But uh, is _this_ a thing now?”

He wiggles a finger between the two of you and your eyes widen immediately at his question. The both of you flinch apart, hands quickly separating as you stared at him in mortification whilst Bruce blushed beet red. Of course. Of course that would be the first thing he asks about waking up post-coma and having not seen you in a year.

Clearly your relationship status was of utmost importance.

“What? No. We’re just really close friends is all.”

You rushed out, glancing at Bruce who of course would back your claim. It was almost adorable the way the scientist had vigorously nodded in agreement as if the eagerness of his response would convince Tony I-am-as-stubborn-as-they-come Stark any better. 

“You sure?”  
  


Tony asks with a wrinkle of his nose,

“Didn’t look much like friendly hand holding to me.”

“Well it was.”

You countered, crossing your arms and looking indignant.

“Right.”  
  
“I’m serious.”

“I didn’t say you were lying.”

The two of you had a momentary staring contest before he broke first and started to laugh. Shaking his head, Tony looks down for a moment and slowly looks back at you with a warm smile.

“Glad you’re back, kid.”

The corner of his lips quirked,

“Missed you around here.”

And if that didn’t just break your heart.

You open your mouth to day something, probably something in the lines of _sorry for leaving you guys. Sorry for being too weak and cowardly to face it. Sorry for thinking that the only way for me to move on was to separate myself from this. Sorry for not being here when you needed me. Sorry for abandoning you. Sorry for not being strong enough_.

You wanted to apologize, but no words would come out. Your chest grew tight. Furrowing your brows, you bit on your lip and laughed bitterly to yourself. You had gotten colder, sure, but you were still _weak_.

Tony must’ve read it on your expression because he let out a loud, obnoxious sigh to save you from further self-hatred. 

“God, what do I need to do to get a burger around here? You know what, we’re going to party. Tomorrow night. Pep, get someone to organize it. We’re gonna go all out. A _surprise I’m not dead party._ ”

You thought she would disagree, but she didn’t. Instead, the softness in her eyes only melted into hazel pools and she squeezed his shoulder once more. 

“Alright, Tony. Alright. We’ll have a party”  
  


* * *

 

Bucky wasn’t ashamed to admit he was waiting outside your door as a desperate attempt to talk to you.

It was pathetic, pitiful maybe even a little over his head considering the circumstances, but he was wiling to face any screaming, knife throwing, overall physical violence you might inflict on him.

It’s gone for far too long.

He had to talk to you, even for a minute.

Neither of you had said a word since your return and it’s been killing him. Absolutely killing him to have you so close yet so far. He can’t blame anyone but himself, he knows that, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. He has no right, no ground to even speak to you, but he’s willing to push any boundary for a chance.

And so, there he was, sitting right outside your door, waiting for you to come back.

Everyone else had went to visit Tony one by one, but Bucky knew he was practically blacklisted. There’s no need to wonder why.

He sighed, resting his head against the wall and shut his eyes.

He wonders where you are right now. You were the first one to go visit Tony and you hadn’t left his side since then. Only when someone else came to visit did you step outside, but you always came back when they finished. At least, that’s what Steve claimed.

He wonders if Bruce is there with you.

The searing hot strike of jealousy hits him hard, and even when he doesn’t mean to, his fists clench up. Natasha had told him about your confrontation. She’d spoken to him for the first time since they’ve ended their affair. Right after you had found them in bed together and the Hulk out happened, they’ve cut ties.

They hadn’t allowed themselves to be in the same room alone since then, too overwhelmed with guilt to even consider picking up where they left off. He couldnt even stand the thought of touching her again. Bile had risen up in his throat when he realized you had left. When Fury had came in and announced your resignation, he had bolted out and locked himself in his quarters. He couldnt sleep for a week, his appetite was hardly there. He was a mess.

Though the pain can’t even be comparable to what you had been through.

 Losing you had been a rude wake up call. It made him realize just how important you were to him and how much he hated the thought of hurting you. How much he hated the thought of losing you.

But he did.

And now he was in the fight of his life trying to get you back.

He wasn’t stupid.

He wasn’t stupidly hopeful, he knew that realistically you would never give him a chance. But maybe, just _maybe_ if you can see how serious and persistent he is, you might give him even the slightest bit of ch-

“Barnes?”

Bucky startles, straightening up when he hears someone call him. His back tensed, his blood roaring in his ears as rage filtered in his veins.

It wasn’t you.

Bucky swallows down his nerves, his steeling heart thrumming loud against his chest,

“Banner.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Sorry for the small chapter but WE HAVE THE CONFRONTATION AND PARTY NEXT CHAPTER. Hopefully I’ll get it out by tomorrow or wednesday :)


	6. s i x

When you showed up at Bruce’s door earlier that night looking exhausted and downcast after your visit with Tony, he immediately wrapped his arms around you and led you inside his apartment. You were having an “episode” or so you called them, but Bruce knew them better as “affection withdrawals”. The minute you stepped foot into his apartment, you went on auto-pilot and headed straight for the bed. He let you, of course.

At this point, it was routine.

You’d fallen asleep on his bed in the fetal position, your nose tucked into the thick dark blue wool of the blanket cocooning you as you snuggled into the warmth. There were no haunting thoughts or memories shadowing over you, no constant need to put on a facade and make sure everything was going the way they should. You were unguarded and free.

You looked at peace.

It’s a shame you only ever looked at peace when you were asleep.

Bruce had been burying himself in the experiments and blueprints Tony had asked him to look over. He was sure Tony gave them to him for the mere purpose of giving him something to do. A distraction. Something to mull over so he didn’t get lost in his thoughts. After all, everything seemed right on paper, so he didn’t doubt that Tony _knew_ they would work. It’s just that Bruce needed a diversion. So, as he allowed himself to get overwhelmed with work, he let you sleep. It was probably three or four hours in that he gave up.

Bruce leaned against the doorframe of his room with his arms folded across his chest as he watched you.

He’d smiled then, almost a little reminiscent, as he thought of all the random sleepovers you two had before. Sometimes you went to him. Other times, he went to you. He’d forgotten how this whole thing came about, or who was the first to seek the other one out. Well, it doesn't really matter who did it first. Not anymore.

What mattered was that you had one another to depend on. That he was there when you needed him.

He stiffens when he notices the dark circles under your eyes.

He was sure that this was the cause of stress.

You were emotionally exhausted from everything that happened so far and today was just the reaching point. The stress and _relief_ of today’s events had been a huge weight on your shoulders. It was so heavy and overwhelming you needed a moment to shut down.

And whenever you needed to shut down, you went to him.

If he was being honest, it filled him with a sense of pride. To think, out of all people who could offer you comfort, warmth, and the soft affection you needed, you came to _him_. To the one person who was always angry and restraining himself. To the one person who had a beast inside him. The one person everyone steered clear from in fear of provoking _the other guy_.

To the one person who was the definition of chaos.

The fact that you could see him as a safe space- a _safe haven_ had been the reason he could actually look at his face in the mirror and hate himself _less_. Whenever he thinks about the lowest points in his life, or when he hears those voices telling him he was worthless and disgusting, he remembers your face. He remembers the night your nightmares had gotten hold of you and you woke up screaming and crying in his arms. He remembers how he’d stroked your back until your ragged breaths smoothened and the rapid beating of your heart calmed.

Because even if he was a monster, and even if he was disgusting, at least, he could your stability.

At least, he could be your friend.

Bruce sighed, shutting his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a whole mess. He didn’t think Natasha would try to confront you, but when he heard from FRIDAY that there was an ‘altercation’, he could hardly find himself that surprised. Yes, he’d seen the footage and yes, he had felt so much love for you when you defended your relationship with him. A relationship you didn’t need to defend from anyone because _who were they_ to comment on you two. To comment on the friendship you two had built.

But under all the love was anger.

Anger at Nat for even insinuating that you were using him. To even assume you were so shallow that you would feed off someone else’s pain as a revenge plot. As if you were some sick, conniving antagonist in a movie trying to hurt her. How could she be so self-centered? To think this was about _her_. It took everything inside him not to snap and head over to her, tell her how he was so angry that she could look at you and say those things when she was the one who betrayed him _and_ you.

It was repulsive.

Bruce breathed in, reminding himself to calm down. He felt the Hulk linger above the surface and if he allowed those thoughts to escalate, he had no doubt that he’d lose control. His skin had gotten the faintest shade of green when he got himself under control. The last thing you needed was a Hulk out.

That was the last thing _anyone_ needed.

Looking back to you, he frowns when he noticed your clothes. It was your gym wear. He knows you’re probably uncomfortable. A change of clothes might be for the best, especially since he knows you as a deep sleeper. With the way you started tossing and kicking off his sheets, he figures he’d go down to your room and get some pajamas for you. God forbid you tried to tear off your leggings in mere frustration. Yeah , he didn’t need to be there for that.

He looked around.

Bruce hardly ever used his own room. It’s why it looks so bare and untouched. Before he even started his relationship with Natasha and eventually moved in with her, he had his own apartment away from the others and SHIELD. He needed his own space, away from everyone and anyone that could trigger him. Living in the same tower with a God, a super soldier, a russain spy and well, _Tony Stark_ was a handful. That was the kind of pressure he didn’t need to add to his already stressful life. But everything changed when he officially started seeing Natasha. She had been his rock. The one who could reach out to him and silence the voices and urges running deep in his skin.

He moved in with her, and all of his things were there when he left. Or well, it used to be. He's not really sure if she kept any of it or if she threw it out. He didn’t really care to find out.

With that in mind, he figured he might as well get some of your clothes. Since changing your emergency contacts, you also added him to your access pad. He was clear to go in and out of your room. He just had to be careful, is all. He knew rumors started circulating around the tower about your relationship. He didn’t need anyone getting any more ideas if they saw him enter your room, so he decided to take the desolate hallway. Hardly anyone ever used it, but still he made sure to check every corner before moving forward.

It’s when he gets to your floor that he sees him.

The unmistakable gleam of his arm was enough to confirm his suspicions. Barnes was sitting outside your door, his back against the wall and his head buried in his hands. Long dark hair had been tied into a bun and he can see a small scar just over his jawline. For a moment, Bruce forgot all about his anger because he was just so stunned to see him sitting there. In over two weeks since they returned, this was Bucky’s first attempt to talk to you.

“Barnes?”

Bucky quickly looks up, startled, but then his shoulders tense up for reasons entirely different from being surprised. There’s a glint of rage in the icy blues of his gaze but he quickly stomps it down to give Bruce an even look. His lips pressed thinly,

“Banner.”

The silence that spreads out between them is suffocating. It’s not even awkward. The tension was heavy and thick. It was cutting. Bruce felt it prick his skin to the point he started feeling numb. Tingles ran up his spine as he felt the pressure elevate.

It was as if it was slowly uncoiling to stretch until it was so thinned out that eventually, it would simply snap. Neither Bruce or Bucky tore their gaze from each other, and it quickly became evident that this was some sort of pissing contest. More and more, the tension poured into the hall until Bruce spoke,

“What are you doing here?”

He asks, even when he damn well knows why Barnes would be outside waiting by your door. It doesn’t take much to figure out. He just wants to hear it. To have Barnes tell him directly so he can have a reason to cut into him like he wants to. Maybe not physically, but verbally can be just as good. The anger had already began to flood his senses.

“That’s none of your business.”

Bucky grumbles. He doesn't take the bait. Bucky knows he has no right to be so obstinate. That if anything, he should take this moment to apologize or grovel if he needs to. What he and Nat did was fucked beyond words could ever express. Neither you nor Banner deserved such betrayal and yet they did it. No matter how much he wished it didn’t happen; it did. No matter what reasons he could have, at the end of the day, he was still the person who sank that knife into your backs. He had no right to act otherwise.

Bruce only hums, stares at Barnes for another beat before nodding to himself. He wants to argue with him; wants to hurt him. He feels the need to snap tug at his sleeve but he knows it won’t help anyone. Why should he look for trouble? Why waste his breath trying to emphasize the pain you both went through?

_Why bother?_  
  


He doesn't say another word when he walks over to your door and presses his hand to the accesspad. When the door opens, Bucky is clearly surprised. He stumbles from how quickly he gets up, blood roaring in his ears as he watched Bruce,

“What the hell- why do you have access to her room?”

The scientist looks over his shoulder to where Bucky had gotten up, already a feet in his space when his frustration starts boiling over. He doesn't answer Bucky’s outraged protests and went on in your room to find comfortable clothes. When he comes back out two minutes later, he's not surprised to see Bucky still standing there. Bucky had wanted to follow Banner inside, but he knew better than to.  He knew you would be enraged. You liked your privacy and so, he would give you that. He wouldn’t intrude more than he already has.

Bucky was standing straight looking tense and ready to rear into a fight, his arms by his sides and the prominent bulge of muscles flexing with the restraint he was putting on himself. He looked every bit like the soldier.

Bruce could recognize the fury in his eyes.

The jealousy.

The need to hurt.

Possessiveness.

There was no arguing the jealousy pouring into Bucky by the gallons. He felt it in every fiber of his being. That sour, tangy taste in his mouth makes him wince. Bucky was about to say something else, something he knows was sharp and biting because he can feel the cutting words at the tip of his tongue, when he catches sight of your pajamas in Banner’s arms. Suddenly, all the rage and anger and fury that clouded his mind fell into nothingness.

For a split second, he was numb.

But the realization sank in quick.

There’s an abundance of bitterness and a heavy weight that settled in his stomach. It’s gotten hard to breathe. It felt like someone dropped weights on his chest with the way his throat began to palpitate as if he can’t swallow down the truth. He quickly realized what it was for. Those pajamas were your favorite. Looking up from the clothes bunched up in the scientist’s arms, he stares at Bruce in the eyes,

“Is she... Is she staying with you?”

God, the words felt like glass in his mouth. It physically stung him to say and hear. He holds his eyes but Bruce doesn’t answer him.

He doesn’t need to, the silence is an answer in itself.

Within a second, the forgotten rage flares up like never before and Bucky has Bruce’s collar in his shaking fist. The aggression rolls off him in waves, the ferocity of his jealousy flows through his veins as images play in his mind. Images of you splayed over Banner’s bed, or of you beneath him as your bodies melt into one. He can almost hear your moans and soft gasps, but it’s all wrong.

It’s all wrong because it’s not his name you’re calling out, it’s Banner’s.

With renewed determination, Bucky yanks him close and neary growls out the words,

“Are you sleeping with her?”

Bruce couldn't withhold the way his eyes widened. Just as quickly, he pushed himself out of the Soldier’s grip and glared,

“What she and I do is none of your concern, Barnes.”

Bruce scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. He returns his attention to Bucky and adds,

“She is not your concern.”

“I love her-”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

  
Neither of them say anything after that. Bruce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation and narrowing his gaze at the floor. He tries to imagine your voice telling him to breathe in and out. Tries to remember the smell of your lavender scented perfume. He licks his lips,

“You don’t hurt the one you love. You don’t lie to them. You don’t cheat on them with their close friend and teammate.”  
  


Bruce lifts his gaze from the ground,

“But you did. You hurt her, Bucky. You hurt her badly. I watched her put herself together and toughen it out. I was there to hold the pieces as she taped them back together. You don’t get the chance to rip them out. Not again.”

_I won’t let you._

The unspoken threat is clear. Bucky doesn’t respond and only stares at the ground. His jaw was clenched so tight Bruce could see veins adorning his skin. Bucky wants to speak out, to claim that he does love you and that he never stopped. He wants to say that you were the only thought he had. You were his first thought in the morning when he opened his eyes and the last one at night when he went to sleep.

But even then, in his dreams he dreamt of you.

With one last look, Bruce turns from him and walks back to his apartment. He leaves Bucky standing there with the consequences of his decisions resting on his shoulders.

-

You’re awake by the time Bruce gets back to his room.

You’re there in bed, the blankets circled around you as you sit up staring at the door.

You’re frowning when the door shuts behind him.

“You left.”

You mumble. Your voice was croaky from sleep but even then he can tell you’re still tired. Bruce smiles a little, raising your pajamas in hand and walks over to you. He sits beside you, silently handing you your pajamas and gestures at your outfit,

“You can’t be comfortable in that.”

You shrug,

“Didn’t bother me any.”

_But your leaving me did._

“Why don’t you get changed?”  
  


Bruce asks with a tilt of his head,

“We can cuddle, if you’d like.”

You try not to let your eagerness show, but he sees it in the way your eyes light up the tiniest bit. You get up, head straight to the bathroom and changed. By the time you get out, Bruce is in bed shirtless and wearing sweatpants.

You stop short when you’re a feet from the bed, suddenly feeling shy about the whole thing.

Like always, you’re worried this is too much. That this “affection withdrawal” is too much for him. That you’re being overbearing and childish and he’ll think you as needy like Bucky did-

“Well?”

Bruce smiles, raising his arm up,

“Are you coming?”

The doubt that lingered in your head vanished with that smile. And so you shuffle toward him, raise the covers and slipped in. When your feet left the ground, you snuggled close into his chest until your ear pressed against his warm skin and the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat resonated with you. You take in his scent, shut your eyes and allowed sleep to take over you once more.

But not before you felt the softness of Bruce’s lips press gently against your forehead, riding you of any nightmares like it always did.


	7. s e v e n

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I published this chapter a month ago-
> 
> Oops

The swarovski crystals dangling overhead twinkle bright and precious under the lights. Curtains of its brilliance falls upon the guests, who all transition from group to group with sharp smiles, vigilant gazes and laughter too long to be true. The entirety of the complex is lavished with designer furniture, nothing less than what you’d expect a Stark party to be like.

What was originally supposed to be a simple get-together with friends and close associates, turned out to be bigger than what was initially intended. Someone in the medical wing had tipped off the press about Tony’s recovery and party, and as a result, Pepper had no choice but to turn it into a social event. You weren’t mad, per se. Sure it might get annoying, but it couldn’t be helped. Pep was bombarded with emails and reporters trying to request an interview.

Tony didn’t care much for his reputation, but not inviting business partners would look bad on Stark Industries and would make Pepper’s job that much harder. You could roll your eyes at the thought. Those who were high in power tend to hold onto grudges, even for something miniscule like not receiving an invite to a party. And thus, the party of thirty became a party for one hundred eighty.

You didn’t necessarily care for the change. If anything, it worked out in your favor. More people meant less the chances you would have to interact with any of them. Those who would’ve been invited had to be part of the inner circle around SHIELD. And usually, those in the inner circle knew things. Things like your history with your ex-teammates.

Yeah, you didn’t need those kinds of questions being asked of you.

As an intelligence agency, it shouldn't come as a surprise that people working in SHIELD was a bit nosy.

Hiking up the long skirt of your dress, your heels clicked against the marble floor. You’d told Bruce to go ahead of you, knowing the scientist would’ve waited as you got ready. To save him from the boredom, you told him you’d meet him there. Now, two and a half hours later, you were just arriving the party that started an hour ago.

Men and women of all variations were mingling about. Diamonds, silk and designer suits welcome you in, and suddenly a sense of nostalgia hits you. You’d been to parties like this before. Namely, when the Avengers first formed and dealt with Loki’s army. To say the amount of ass-kissing you had to do was tremendous wasn’t an exaggeration. You could still remember how much your facial muscles hurt after smiling so much that one night. You’d smiled harder every time you felt the need to throttle someone you were speaking to.

Stepping into view, you made a quick scan of the guests. You nearly sighed in relief when you noticed everyone from the team was busy entertaining Tony’s guests.

Yeah, you really didn’t miss this part of living in the tower.

Opting to make a quick getaway and sneak passed anyone who wanted to “take a minute of your time”, you quickly whipped around trying to spot Bruce. You knew him well enough to know he was hovering near the dessert table, off at the far end, trying to hide away from prying eyes. Though, he hardly ever had to worry all too much since most people decided to stay away. Still, there were the occasional groupies hoping to hang off an Avenger’s arm- any Avenger.

With a huff, you continued your search until your eyes fell onto the man you’d been searching for.

Your brows pressed together.

Who was that?

Standing beside Bruce with a wide smile was a pretty brunette with bright, blue crystal-like eyes. She was gorgeous in that refined yet carefree way. As if she was the embodiment of the scent of a fresh meadow. Pale, smooth skin blends well with the blue of her bandage dress. Her silky hair was weaved into an elaborate bun, some locks purposely left out to frame her angular face.

The woman laughs --how can a laugh be so pretty?-- and absentmindedly strokes the side of Bruce’s arm. And to your surprise, Bruce answers her amusement with a fond smile. A smile you only ever saw him direct toward you and once, long ago, at Natalia. You could feel yourself stiffen at the gesture. It irked you. Not at the way the woman seemed relaxed around Bruce, hardly noticing the way others looked at them, but the way Bruce didn’t mind.

It irked you because it was obviously familiar to him.

Her touch was familiar to him.

This woman was familiar to him.

Just ask quickly as this thought struck you, you stomped it down. The quick rise of disgust stirs in your belly. Disgust at yourself for being selfish in not wanting to share. You weren’t oblivious to your emotions. You weren’t ignorant to them.

You knew you were getting territorial.

Maybe not in the way a lover would be, but as someone who feared losing the one person she really had. The one person who was all hers for a year. And now, seeing a potential someone taking it away, you were quickly beginning to realize that this arrangement would only go so far. One day, your scars and Bruce’s would heal and you both would be open to falling in love again. No matter how hard you’d resist, there will be someone who will pierce through your guards and effortlessly break down your walls.

It won’t be easy, it won’t be soon, but it will happen.

So when you look up once more and see that the woman still hasn’t removed her hand from his arm, you smile.

Maybe you’re not ready.

But maybe he is.

-

“It’s so great to see you, Bruce. It’s been so long. Five years? God, I can’t even remember.”

Bruce grins into his drink. He’d worried over how he’d react to being in such a social environment where he had to talk to other people besides you. He was certain there’d be a few people who knew nothing about boundaries and would question him about being what he was and how he felt. He’d heard all sorts of questions through the years and he was sure there’d be nothing new.

He’d already spotted two or three people who seemed to want to speak to him since he came in, but was hesitating on how to approach him. Bruce silently prayed neither of them would garner the courage and just leave him alone. He was perfectly content in being a shadow in the background until you came in. Admittedly, he was a bit curious on what you were wearing. When he’d asked, you simply winked and told him he’d have to wait to see it. Regardless, the scientist was sure you would look gorgeous no matter what you were wearing.

You’d blushed when he told you that.

A ghost of a smile spread across his lips just as one of the keen guests was about to gather his courage and go up, but someone beat him to it.

It seemed luck was on Bruce’s side.

The person to step forward and speak to him was a familiar face. Maybe too familiar if you considered their history.

“It’s good to see you, Betty.”

Betty Ross was once the light in Bruce’s dark, dark tunnel. One too many fights and complicated obstacles with the law was what blew out that fire. It had hurt, but the pair had broken things off amicably. She was still as much a friend as she was before they’d dated.

“I bet it is, even though you never gave me a call to say you were back in New York. Imagine how I felt finding out from Stark himself.”

Bruce had the decency to blush, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with a breathy laugh. He supposes he can’t really go on to say “sorry, I kind of forgot you lived here until you came up to me”. He wasn’t interested in getting slapped.

“Sorry, I uh- had a lot going on.”

Which was true, though it wasn’t really an excuse.

The unimpressed raise of her brow told him she knew as well as he did that it was a bad excuse.

“Right. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the pretty little Agent you spent a year in hiding with.”  
  


Well if that didn’t make Bruce choke.

Betty hums, tilting her head to the side with a hand caressing her own cheek,

“Or should I say eloped? I’m not really sure, you hear all sorts of things in the halls.”  
  


Bruce groans and runs his hand down his face. How in the hell did people know these things? For a secret organization, there really wasn’t much secret keeping, was there?

“Betty-”

“I’m only joking, Banner. That’s all. I’m not upset you didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He wasn’t worried about what she thought, but what sort of things was being spread about them. If it reaches the wrong ears, he can only imagine what sort of hell would be unleashed.

“We’re not- we didn’t elope, or anything. Well, maybe? But not in the way everyone probably thinks.”

The curt tone of his voice told Betty not to press on, and so she gave in with a small nod.

“If you aren’t together”

She pauses, lifts her eyes from the ground back to his and finally asks him what she wondered for so long,

“-what do you think about trying again? Us. How would you feel about that?”

Of all the ways Bruce expected tonight to go, this certainly wasn’t on the list. He searched her eyes, trying to pull any semblance of deceit or playfulness hidden beneath those blues, but only found truth. She waited, never once taking her eyes away from him.

“Bruce? I asked if you-”

“I can’t.”

It was abrupt, and maybe a little too quick to come across as anything but rude and hurtful, but it was said. Bruce licked his lips and shook his head,

“I can’t.”  
  


He repeated, but with more vigor this time.

For a moment it looked like Betty had trouble processing his response. She looked surprised, a bit too surprised, with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. She tried to form a response, as her mouth moved to open and close a few times before she finally chokes out,

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

He doesn’t hesitate,

“Both.”

The sudden laugh that Betty follows up with startles Bruce so much he nearly drops his glass. She threw her head back, and slowly calmed down with the last of the giggles left inside her and smiles at him,

“You’ve changed.”

She whispers with an odd gleam in her eyes. Bruce doesn’t try to decipher it, not when he can see the start of longing in the glaze of her gaze.

He smiles and shrugs a little,

“I did. We all did.”

“And I suppose the agent is because of that?”

Bruce meets her eyes, and he thinks for a moment. He thinks back to all the times he neared the brink of giving up. Of all the times he lost his mind over what he did wrong, what he was missing and if he deserved all this pain. He thinks back to when you reached out to him, lent him a hand and helped him every step of the way.

He grins wider this time, a soft, melancholic look on his face,

“Yeah. I guess she is.”

_______

Wandering around the floor, you spoke to a few business associates and managed to slip away when things were starting to get too close for comfort. You’d had three people blatantly ask you about your disappearance a year ago, to which you responded that you had “private matters to attend to”. 

The obvious disappointment your response had given them had been amusing to say the least. You were glad you managed to avoid all of them, but you knew the night was a far cry from over. If this party was going to be like the others before, you were going to have a long, long night.

With a sigh, you set your drink down on the silver platter an approaching waiter carried and rolled your shoulder back. Bruce had been talking to the same woman for over thirty minutes, and you wondered if you should cut in and let him know you arrived. Though, by the looks of it, he seemed to be enjoying her company.

It might be a better idea to leave him be for a while.

With your mind made up, you straightened yourself up and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. You’d rushed on putting on some make up, so you worried you might've needed to touch up on something. Besides, a break form smiling would be nice too. Luckily, everyone was busy mingling with others or getting drunk, so you had the bathroom all to yourself.

After reapplying your lipstick, fixing your hair and giving yourself a final once over, you were ready to go back out and face the wolves.’

You wished you knew it was coming, but when you stepped out, you hadn’t been expecting to bump into someone along the way.

Or rather, have someone wait on you until you got out.

“Can we talk?”

When you don’t respond and  a make a move to side step him, his cold, metallic hand wrapped gently around your wrist,

“Please.”


End file.
